


Swords & Staves

by Shrimp_Heaven_Now



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Female Mage Trevelyan - Freeform, Fluff, How many tropes can I fit in here, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mage Trevelyan - Freeform, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Takes place during DA 2, Useless Lesbians, We can all agree Cass should have been at least bi right, oh gosh im bad at summaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15422670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrimp_Heaven_Now/pseuds/Shrimp_Heaven_Now
Summary: After years of dedication to her craft, Kit Trevelyan is being rewarded with a place at the White Spire in Val Royeaux. The young mage is escorted by none other than Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast while on a mission for the Chantry. It was supposed to be routine, an errand, but following a brutal attack the two are left to fend for themselves in the wilderness. They must learn to trust and rely on each other if they are to make it to the capitol let alone Kirkwall. For Kit, it is a moment to live life to the fullest while she can; for Cassandra, it is a revelation that strikes her to the core.





	1. Chapter 1

Pale gold daylight broke through the narrow windows of the Ostwick Circle tower and spilled across the aged stone walls, illuminating the crowded dormitory and its occupants. As if on cue, most the sleeping crowd rolled over to ignore the sun's call to rise for at least a few more minutes. In a cluttered corner of the room, a heavy trunk lid clunked loudly against its base causing some groans from nearby sleepers. 

Kit Trevelyan had just finished packing the last of her relatively few material possessions. She felt a twinge at the realisation her whole life could be summed up in a simple knapsack; a few robes and underthings, a couple of her favorite books stolen from the library, her mother's prayer beads, and an old letter from a dear friend. She hadn’t asked but she felt she already knew her staff would be taken from her; she left it on her bed.

Kit took care to close the heavy door to the dormitory quietly and no sooner had it thudded shut, a Templar lieutenant jangled up to her. 

"Lady Enchanter Trevelyan," Such formality made Kit's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Not since she entered the Circle had her title ever been used. The Templar continued, "Your escorts have arrived. I am to present you to them." 

Kit nodded and heaved her bag up onto her shoulder. There weren't any specific rules against it, but it was commonly understood that the mages didn't speak often to their keepers. 

"Allow me, my lady." The man in full armor reached for the bag, and pulled it over his back. With his free hand, he motioned towards the stairs at the end of the hall.

"...Thank you." This was ridiculous. Not even two days ago Kit had tripped in the library, her arms releasing a heavy stack of books, and watched them clatter every which way while the nearest Templar laughed. She had felt his gaze on her as she collected them. And now she gets some preferential treatment? Absolutely ridiculous.

With the Templar at her side, she descended the wide staircase and headed through the winding halls to the Great Hall. She didn't realize she had been almost jogging the whole way. She couldn't deny she was eager to say the least. At last the foreboding doors of the Circle tower entrance came into view.

The doors' metal engravings depicted simplistic birds around an ornate sun which was split in the middle by the seam where the double doors come together. A younger Kit found it cruel and mocking. 

_"Mother, this place is cold." A young girl held fast to a woman's bulky skirts. Tears welled and dribbled down her cheeks. She can't understand why her mother won't look at her. A tall man with metal for a face took her arm, the armor dug into her skin. "No!"_

_The First Enchanter smiled but her eyes were sad. She knelt before the girl. "It will be like home here, Katherine. You can wear the prettiest robes, if you like."_

_"I want to go to my real home." Kit sniffled and wrenched herself out of the Templar's grasp to look back at her mother. The stone-faced woman patted her once on her crown of gold curls. Kit took her hand with pleading eyes. "I want to go home."_

_Lady Trevelyan pressed something into her small hands and told her to "be a good girl" before turning sharply and proceeding through the metal doors. Young Kit looked at the prayer beads in her hand and thought they felt colder than the tower._

Despite her noble heritage, the circles of the Free Marches saw equal treatment for their mages. As such, the last time Kit Trevelyan was outside the circle grounds was the day she had to leave home. She thought of the beads in her pack and felt sick. Kit was shaken from her thoughts as the First Enchanter approached. 

"You're such a bright girl." The elderly woman placed her hands down on Kit's shoulders. "The Ostwick Circle will miss you greatly. I expect you to do your best in Orlais, child." 

Orlais. Kit had excelled in her scholarly pursuits and managed to impress a visitor who was also a distant family member--there were so many, she couldn't even tell which side of the family he came from. Count LeClair had offered to be her patron and transfer her to the White Spire in Val Royeaux. His eyes glinted behind his gaudy silver mask with a light she didn't appreciate. She knew about, and was eager for, the looser hold of the Spire on its mages however. If all went well, Kit would probably be invited to a gala at best, paraded as a party trick at worst. Anything was better than the Marches. 

The Knight-Commander sniffed. "The day is about to begin and I have duties elsewhere, First Enchanter. May we proceed?" Kit never spent more than a minute in the same room with the man, but she could tell he was straight-laced to a fault. 

"Indeed. Enchanter Katherine, may I present to you your escort to Val Royeaux? This is Lady Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. She will be leading the company of Templars who will oversee your journey."

The woman who had been standing so still Kit mistook her for a statue at once came to life. Her rigid posture deflated at the honorific. 

"There is no need to address me as Lady, First Enchanter. I am a Seeker of Truth before anything else." Amber eyes edged in kohl flickered over to the young enchanter. 

"Enchanter Katherine, I am here to escort you to the White Spire in the capitol of Orlais. I presume your family sent word ahead of time?"

Kit merely nodded as her eyes scanned the face of this woman, from her set jaw to the deep scar across her cheek, then back to those eyes. The knight-commander shifted.

"You will speak when spoken to, enchanter. You are being addressed by the Right Hand of the Divine--show some manners." 

"I-I apologize, my lady," Kit managed to stammer. Her eyebrows were raised in surprise and instinctively went to smooth the front of her robes to improve her presentation. "I did not know."

The Seeker waved a hand in dismissal. "Pay it no mind. Your house has had a loyal standing with the Chantry for generations. The Divine wished to repay some of that loyalty by sending me to accompany your transfer."

"I see. I'm sure House Trevelyan appreciates the gesture." The statement was not lost on the warrior whose eyes narrowed. A silence befell those assembled in the Hall. 

"It is time we proceeded on our journey. Your things have been collected?" Cassandra glanced at the Templar beside the mage. 

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh. I expected more luggage. If you're ready, we will leave in a moment." The Seeker turned back to the small company of Templars by the doors. Slowly the grand doors croaked open and early morning light flooded Kit's vision. A breeze stroked her cheek and the air caught in her throat.

The company fell into line--four soldiers marched ahead, two behind, and the Lady Seeker just a step ahead--and waded into the golden morning. Kit had already said her goodbyes, there was nothing left for her here, and yet tears streamed down her face. She smiled into the light of the sun and if anyone noticed, nothing was said. Her journey had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

It looked more like an ornate caravan rather than a carriage but it still left Kit feeling like royalty. The vehicle glittered in white and gold filigree and Chantry emblems in a classic Orlesian style, and pulled by four auburn colored horses. She felt silly as a Templar opened the door for her, even held her hand as she climbed inside. Soft lambskin lined the plush seats and suddenly her Circle robes felt like rags. Kit picked at a frayed yellow sleeve that had visible singe marks from a fire spell mishap. A small part of her wondered if this would have been her life without magic, such finery even if it was just a carriage. 

Most of the Templars filed into a second, more rustic wagon behind this one. The door of the caravan opened again and Kit scooted across to allow one of the Templars and the Seeker inside. Her pack had been placed behind her in a storage area that held some of the supplies needed for their journey.

Shouts could be heard from outside and the caravan pulled away from the front of the Circle grounds. Kit eagerly pressed her face to the glass to watch the tower and it’s awful heavy doors slip away behind the trees and hills. 

“We should discuss the road ahead, Enchanter.” Kit turned to face the Seeker. “There is another reason I am personally accompanying you to Val Royeaux. I have business on behalf of the Chantry in Kirkwall and we will be stopping there for a day along our route. From there, we will board ship directly to the capitol.” 

“How long until we reach Kirkwall?”

“Ten days or so, my lady.” 

Kit nodded. “And then the ship?” 

“Another three days.”

“...Thank you.” 

Cassandra blinked. “Whatever for?”

Kit smiled slightly. “For letting me know. I’m not often privy to such information.”

Cassandra’s face softened for a moment. “Oh. I thought it important you know all the details.”

Kit studied the way the Seeker’s face relaxed. She seemed more youthful when her eyebrows weren’t screwed tight in a scowl of annoyance. Kit was content to leave the conversation there for the meanwhile but Cassandra’s openness made her bold.

“Will we be making camp?”

“Yes. Does this bother you?”

Kit shouted a laugh without warning. She covered her mouth though her shoulders continued to shake when she caught the bewildered look on Cassandra’s face.

“Seeker, I haven’t felt the wind on my face in fifteen years.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “The last thing I want right now is a stone wall around me.” Kit started to feel self-conscious when she saw the look the Seeker gave her. It wasn’t pity, thank the Maker; it was a tightening in her eyes and lips that looked almost like pain. Kit almost apologized. Almost.

The caravan grew quiet. Everyone on board seemed to be content with watching the autumn scenery pass through the windows. Every now and then a bit of small talk bubbled up to quickly disperse and once again leave the car in silence. The warm afternoon sun stretching across her lap coupled with the rhythmic swaying of the vehicle lulled Kit into a dreamless sleep.

She woke some hours later to the sound of the door slamming shut. The car was shrouded in darkness but she could see the dance of firelight through the windowpane. She was surprised to find she was alone in the caravan. 

Outside, Kit found a well-organized campsite already pitched in the wide grassy field they’d stopped. Tents formed a semi-circle before a couple of bonfires. A cauldron bubbled with something that smelled delicious and Kit’s stomach practically lurched towards it. Templars busied themselves around her, hardly giving her a second glance. It felt odd and strangely sort of awkward. She had no one to report to; no senior enchanters, no knight-captain. Kit looked for Cassandra in the set-up but didn’t see her anywhere. Stiffly, she walked towards the circle of soldiers around the pot of stew. She lingered just outside, eyeing the plates of food on everyone’s laps. Kit jumped at the hand that fell on her shoulder.

“Enchanter, sit.” The woman’s Orlesian accent was lighthearted. She was out of armor and smiling. “Hungry? Durand, serve our guest some food.” 

The man named Durand held out a tin bowl full of stew with a smile as kind as the woman’s. Kit scooted onto a log next to another off-duty Templar and dug into her food trying to pretend this was normal. She listened to the idle chatter between the soldiers, most of it in Orlesian. More of the Templars started to leave the fireside and Kit felt out of place again. 

From a large tent, the Seeker stepped into the night, armorless. Kit all but jumped up to meet her but stopped a generous few feet away. The Templars she traveled with seemed fair enough but she was starting to like the easy manner with which she could speak to Cassandra. Before Kit could say anything, Cassandra spoke first. 

“Lady Enchanter, Lieutenant Ervin will show you to your tent. We will be leaving before sunrise. Good evening.” Her words felt terse and not at all like the conversations shared in the caravan. A pearl of a feeling felt stuck in Kit’s chest but she couldn’t place it. As dictated, a woman who must have been the lieutenant appeared behind Cassandra. Kit nodded her goodbye to the Seeker and followed the lieutenant to a small but adequate tent.

Inside was a plump bedroll filled with goose down, a stool that acted as a nightstand, a lantern, her pack, a pitcher of water and a bowl. Kit marveled at the privacy she was allowed. Everything about today had felt like a dream and now she was getting her own sleeping quarters. Granted, she was surrounded by a company of Templars headed by a Seeker of Truth, but the appearance of privacy alone was another surprise. She crawled onto the bedroll in a simple night shift and blew out the lantern. She sat awake in the darkness for an hour reveling in the sounds of the world at night. The insects not yet hushed by the cold and the wind rustling the dry leaves soon lulled the young mage to sleep. 

\--------------

As promised, Kit was woken just before dawn. She stumbled out of the tent with unruly bedhead and rumpled blue and purple robes. In the misty blue morning, she could see that the camp had already been packed up save for a few tents including hers. The Seeker was relaying orders to her officers who then relayed them to others. Kit watched the Seeker, back straight, armor in place, stalking towards her. 

“Good morning, my lady, “ a pause, “Are you...ready to depart?” Cassandra eyed the mage’s wild mane of curls and bleary face. Kit attempted the blink the sleep from her eyes as she tore a hand through her hair. 

“Yes, good morning. Yes.” Kit slung her pack over her shoulder and smiled. A smirk appeared for a second on Cassandra’s face before her mask of authority slipped back into place. It made Kit feel silly and she grinned wider, embarrassed. 

“Good. Head back to the caravan. We will depart in a moment. The soldiers will catch up after the camp is packed.”

Kit watched Cassandra give the last of her orders to the officers as the field was stripped bare of their presence. She attempted to smooth the wrinkles from her robes before the Seeker dropped ungracefully into the seat across from her. The Templar from the day before accompanied them once again. 

The caravan lurched into a steady pace just as the sun rose over the hills. Kit’s wandering gaze noted the way the Seeker certainly did not look like she spent all of two minutes readying herself; her jet black hair was combed, her braid affixed around her head like a halo. Her eyes had just a dusting kohl and her outfit was tidy. Kit wondered if she camped often. The sunlight illuminated the angles of Cassandra’s face and Kit imagined her visage etched in marble.

“Is there something on my face?” Cassandra frowned and put a gloved hand to the side of her face.

Surprised, Kit shook her head. She hadn’t realized she was staring. 

“No! You’re fine!” 

Cassandra hummed, suspicious, however turned her attention to the book she pulled from a leather bag. The cover was wrapped in parchment. Protection?

“Um, what are you reading,” Kit fumbled with how to address the woman, “ma’am?”

With a flicker of her eyes over the edge of the book, Cassandra huffed. 

“It’s nothing. Just a book.”

Ah, so it’s going to be like that then, Kit thought. She sighed and eased back into the plush seat. This was going to be a long trip.


End file.
